The 'Accidental Facebook Like'

    A month ago, I got a new phone.  In figuring out nuances of the phone, I have managed to ‘like’ pictures I intended only to scroll through, ‘favorite’ tweets I meant to ‘collapse’, send three text messages when I only wanted to send one, and commit other delightful social media faux-pas at the most opportune times. 

    For my reason or another, I’ll take a gamble that you too have been in the “accidentally-liking/friending/commenting-and-hurrying-to-undo” boat.  We want to ‘undo’ it because a) we actually don’t like the item or b) we don’t want the person to know we were looking.  Either way, it’s awkward to ‘undo’ because What if they already saw it? or What if they think I’m rude?

So what’s behind the freak-out moment of the ‘accidental like’? 

“If we have no peace, it is because we've forgotten that we belong to each other.”  Mother Teresa

    There’s a freak-out moment with the ‘accidental like’ because it reminds me that even if I’m behind a screen, I am not anonymous and neither are you.  We are real, and belong to one another.  But shoot, that shouldn't be such a surprise.  I think we deserve more.  

    The antidote is tough to find, but I know what it's not.  It’s not “go on a mission to humanize the internet by commenting/liking/reacting to everything I see”; that’s annoying and means nothing.  And it’s not “get off of social media because it’s not real life”; social media is real, and can be good.  St. Augustine said ‘abstinence is easier than perfect moderation’; in this case, he means it is easier for me to cut out all social media, but better to learn to use it well and manage my time.  

I need to remember it’s YOU on the other side and act accordingly.  

The following are so insightful.  I loved reading them, and if you've made it this far, then you might too. 

1.  Instagram's Envy Effect

2.  XKCD's comic 'The Pace of Modern Life'

3.  Pope Benedict XVI on The Year of Faith, which runs from 2012-2013 (excerpt below)

 “Among the most striking experiences of the last decades is finding doors closed.  The bolted door of my house, the place of my intimate life, my dreams, hopes, sufferings and moments of happiness, is locked against others. And it is not simply a matter of the physical house; it is also the whole area of my life, of my heart. All the time there are fewer who can cross that threshold. The security of reinforced doors protects the insecurity of a life which is becoming more fragile and less open to the riches of the life and the love of others.

The image of an open door has always been a symbol of light, friendship, happiness, liberty, and trust.  How we need to recover them."  

Beauty: in the eye of the mover

The ominous springtime sky makes for a beautiful drive through the streets of town.  Large amounts of rain bring, of course, very green plant life.  So the trees, with young green leaves, were on great display yesterday. 

As I drove through an arch of trees like the one above, I really wanted to capture the moment…re-drive the street…take a picture …stop to get out?  I have stopped during drives to get out and ‘soak up’ the scenery, but it’s always awkward, or just not what I expect.  I get out and realize all of a sudden that I’m in front of someone’s house…and there are people around, and it that it looks pretty questionable to park, get out, and stand in the street looking at trees.  And even if there were no one around, stopping just doesn’t capture what I thought it would…it just doesn’t work. 

To experience the ‘beauty’ of a drive, for angles to change, for the light to cast new shadows, for new scenes to appear, I must move.  Though something in me wants to take it all in for good, there is something most beautiful about moving through beautiful things.  Beauty is suggestive, penetrating, but its capture is evasive.  I can only behold it if I am willing to leave it, to trust that more will be supplied.  

Columbia River, Washington State
Where I learned how to waterski.
I did not take the pic, but it does look like this...go there.

A friend of mine was struck by a hymn with the lyrics ‘Peace is flowing like a river…’ because ‘Peace’ and ‘constant change’ normally aren’t associated.  But upon reflection, he came to see that a river is actually peaceful in the best and truest sense.  A river supplies life precisely because of the moving waters; a river is fresh, replenished, and allows for migration.  If it was dammed, the life it supplies would be severely diminished.  There is life around a river because it is always flowing. 

So too, I have Peace when I allow Grace to flow through me rather than receive a little and grasp at it to keep it.  Was I not promised that I would be given water and never thirst again?  (John 7:37-38) Jesus stood up and exclaimed, “Let anyone who thirsts come to me and drink.  As Scripture says: Rivers of living water will flow from within him who believes in me.”

Grace, like Beauty, is not meant to be stopped up, but to flow.  Like water in a river, Grace supplies life to whatever it touches.  It enlightens, invigorates, and changes forever that which it encounters.  And there is an endless supply, but only if it’s moving.